Home > Unwritten(3)

Unwritten(3)
Author: Alex Rosa

I try not to laugh. “I’m treating you to coffee and pie? How does that work?”

“Oh, that’s because you own a diner, remember? Elwood’s is all yours.”

“Right.” A shaky smile curves over my lips.

“Don’t look so terrified. Plus, we need to discuss when you’re going to be inviting your hot friends from LA to our humble town.” He winks as he leads me to his black Ford F-150.

I expel a skirting laugh, running my fingers through my windblown hair. “Writers don’t have many friends.”

“What a shame. How about we go reintroduce you to some old ones?”

I freeze mid-climb into his lifted truck.

Chortles of laughter escape him. “Don’t worry, Caiden is hiding from you. But you, Hails, I’ve never known you to shy away from a challenge.”

I finish my climb as Brandon slides into the driver’s seat with ease. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“Nonsense, Baby Bird. You’ve got your wings now.”

I don’t even attempt to hide my smile.

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

When the truck pulls into the parking lot of Elwood’s, my insides won’t stop squirming.

Brandon is already flying out the driver’s side door. I follow his lead, slipping out of his truck. My feet make hard contact on the asphalt, and I can’t stop staring at the glowing sign that looms above the homely building. It’s just as I remember it. Like my home, it’s exactly how I left it five years ago. My eyes drag over the neon glow of cursive that forms not only the name of this establishment, but also my last name—it all begins to feel like a time warp.

My parents built this business from the ground up before I was born, a time when they had big dreams and moved their life from the east coast to this small town to open their own restaurant. This place is the evidence of their blood, sweat, and tears… not to mention, their happiness. It was their dream for it to carry on for generations to come.

My guilt is multi-layered, and Elwood’s happens to be part of the foundation. It’s part of the reason why I should have stayed.

“Gotta face it sooner or later.”

I pull my stare from the building to see Brandon waiting for me at the double door entrance. “I know. I just—”

“Stop trying so hard and go with the flow. Has big city living made you that uptight?”

“No!” I scowl.

“Then giddy up!” he replies, opening the door for me.

“What do I do when I go inside?”

“You start with hello.”

That isn’t what I mean, but I go with it as I put one foot in front of the other.

He presses his palm against the center of my back, forcing me to walk faster than my snail’s speed. “C’mon,” he groans.

“I got it.”

The apple pie smell is ten times more pungent as it twists around the aroma of hotcakes and fried goodness.

I don’t know where I belong when I reach the hostess’s podium. There was a time I’d walk right behind the counter and straight to the back office. My name may be on the building, but after so much time, it feels unnatural.

A tall, striking redhead blindly approaches the stand, focusing on a notepad in her hand, as if recounting her most recent order. “Welcome to Elwood’s, how many?”

She still hasn’t looked up, and I can’t help the involuntary arch of the corner of my mouth as I take in the sight of my best friend since elementary school. The prominent freckles that dot her nose are just as I remember. Her fiery red hair sits in a lazy but still effortlessly pretty bun on top of her head.

It was never a secret that Cecelia Baker was the prettiest girl in town—from the slope of her nose and heart-shaped face, to the sapphire blue of her eyes and her slim stature, she always had the boys in this town giving her double takes.

Brandon is on the verge of laughter. Having him here makes me feel slightly more confident than I would be alone, but I can’t seem to speak. It forces CeeCee to look up at me. Her eyes widen as she dissects my face. “Holy hell,” she chirps, “a ghost.”

She drops the notepad and flings herself around the podium. She practically jumps on me as she throws her arms around my neck.

“Hailey-effin-Elwood!”

The eyes of all the diner patrons dart my way. Brandon snickers behind me. So much for going incognito. I hug her back, squeezing tight, and she squeezes right back. We practically suffocate each other before we pull away. “CeeCee, you’re not mad at me?”

“Ha! I’m mad as all hell! But for right now, I’m too damn happy to see you! Look at you! Fancy city living has done you good.” She places a hand on each of my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length. “Oh, you look like your mama.”

My smile falls.

She gifts me with a sympathetic one in return as she shakes my shoulders. “We all miss her.”

“CeeCee, it’s so good to see you!” I can’t bring myself to talk about my mother yet, not when I’m standing inside Elwood’s.

“So, what’s on your agenda? Here to come check out the biz? Promote me? Or tell me you desperately missed me?” She winks.

I let out a second round of laughter, amazed by the effect my old friends are having on my soul. The dread I felt over the idea of encountering them drips away. “I can’t believe you work here.”

“Well, I never saw it coming, either. It’s a pathetic story, really. You know I was never good at the school thing. I only survived high school copying off you. College wasn’t for me. I lasted a year. Then your mom gave me a job. Turns out, I’m better at balancing books than I thought. I’ve been managing the place for the past two years.”

When I was in high school, my mom told me she was always worried about CeeCee, who paid more attention to boys than her studies. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my mother swooped in to save the day. She was always the hero. “Wow, that’s fantastic.”

“Right?” a voice erupts deeply from behind me. CeeCee flicks her eyes to Brandon, who bobs on his heels with a smug grin. “Hey, CeeCee, you look good.”

Her lips twitch. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Brandon gives her a knowing smile, and I find myself grinning as I watch them stare at each other. A giggle escapes me, and then CeeCee is on me like white on rice. “Stop that. I know that sound. We have a lot of catching up to do! Brandon over there has a rap sheet longer than your book.”

“C’mon,” Brandon whines, but he doesn’t seem too fazed by it as he bashfully sticks his hands in his jeans pockets. He almost seems proud.

The sliver of normality warms me. These two have been teasing each other since they could talk. Though, I’m more than curious to know what’s happened between them. The scene sparks something I haven’t felt for a long while, and I mentally file this situation away in my brain. Inspiration. The writer in me is pleased, which will in turn please my agent. I’ll be sure to start my research with CeeCee, who has never been one to mince words, whereas Brandon has always had the tendency to omit the truth.

That prevalent question comes to the forefront of my mind. “Speaking of my book, did you—?”

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